Hallelujah
by BoughsofHollie
Summary: LGBT, new character set, and different setting. This is simply inspired by the series- YOU. Haven't written in years, and am very rusty. Please give me a read and let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

A windy day greeted me when I walked outside, the slap of frosty air being the only thing seeming to fully awaken my exhausted mind. With a long look around the neighborhood, I could see that no one was around. Houses appear empty and all driveways are lonesome, their owners presumably at work for the day. It still smells of the early morning dew, but the grass has already dried for the day. Clouds hang heavy overhead, a light rain preparing to come into the area, and that terrible, cold wind already here to stay. I suppose this is a typical winter day for January, though this is definitely not how I wanted the new year to begin. I had even set a goal for this year, and here I am- trying only to keep myself- and you- alive and nothing more than that.

Stepping down from the brick porch of my own home, I walked quickly to my car. The old station wagon had definitely seen its better days- brown paint peeling away from the sun-faded spots to reveal the dark rust beneath it, and a leather interior torn in at least two places. I've been meaning to trade it in for years now, I just never find the time or the cash to spend at least one full day in some overpriced dealership. Tossing my bag in the back seat, I slam the door and climb in. The car starts with a roar after turning over a few times, and like always, I feel as though it won't be long before it just stops running altogether. I try tuning the radio, but all I can seem to pick up is static. Just another charming aspect of owning a car older than you are.

Backing out from the driveway, I head towards campus. Normally, this is the most boring part of my daily routine. Seeing the same cars, the same rushed, over exhausted people in them, all of us surrounded by this town that used to be something. Traffic is light today, and my first class isn't for another 30 minutes. I have blessed myself by actually getting out of bed when my alarm began screaming.

With this extra time on my hands, I take a detour. I've been trying to avoid doing this; focusing too much of my time on one person. I can't seem to stop myself from devoting myself to you even though you don't seem to know that I exist at this point. I'll make sure you know more about me, though not too soon. I can't get too involved until I know more about you. We need to have a few shared interests and laugh at the same jokes. Most importantly, I need you to know that I am going to make sure you get everything you've ever wanted. I've already started that process- convincing the registrar to change your schedule so that we have the same classes, forging your signature to confirm it, and having them email it to you as a confirmation. I can see you more often and make sure you've kept up with all of your assignments. I won't let you fail, no matter what it takes.

Sometimes I wonder why you didn't even raise an eyebrow when these changes started taking place. Was this the normal behavior at your old school? I could definitely understand why you left if that was the case. A school seeming to scramble your entire life on less than one full day of notice didn't even do more than give you some basic frustration. It would have set me right off into a tantrum that would terrify even those running the Gates to Hell. But you? Nothing can even faze you. Even when I let us lead off as friends and then suddenly pulled away- not even looking your way when you spoke to me- even that didn't seem to bother you.

The neighborhood where I've learned that you live is quaint. Admittedly, that isn't hard to do around here. The area is generally full of old people waiting for the Grim Reaper to come collect them rather than seeming like what it is- a college town. Many come here expecting the noise and partying that a bigger school would offer, and the admissions guides even suggest that it exists on summer tours. In the three years that I've been here, I've seen a total of four parties take place. All of them were shut down within two hours by the campus police who- by the way- had no right to interfere with such gatherings considering that they weren't on school grounds.

I park across the street and at an angle- far enough away that you won't notice me, but close enough that I can notice you. Hiding this rusty old car isn't that difficult when you're surrounded by similarly neglected machinery. I'm tucked under an old tree, its trunk wider than any other nearby. Its branches shake angrily as the wind blows, releasing tiny pieces of ice onto the ground below. A few people nearby are scraping their windshields or making a quick run for their cars to get them started in this nasty cold snap that has taken over. Taking another glance around, I zip my coat up securely. My heat still hasn't gotten warm and I can easily see my breath inside the car.

Your front door opens up just wide enough for someone to slip out. Back turned, presumably to lock up, I'm unsure at first of who it is. When you turn around, though, I don't know how I could have ever been confused. Your beautiful red hair bounces as you carefully get down off of your front step. You're absolutely glowing as you make your way down the sidewalk. You live close enough to campus to walk every day, and no matter how cold it is you always do. I wish you'd consider driving in weather like this. You carry a thermos in your hand and that same olive green messenger bag over your shoulder. I can't see your hands well from this distance, but I know you have your silver rings on. I've never seen you without them and your delicate fingers look so beautiful with the adornment.

You seem tired today. I watch you walk, the wind now blowing your hair all over. You don't have the normal amount of bounce in your step and your head is down. Hopefully, you got the right amount of sleep last night. I wouldn't want to have you overtired when you're in a learning environment. You reach up and hold your coat closed as you get further and further away. You're cold, just as I knew you would be. Maybe it's time for me to reappear in your life after all. I had thought it was too early, but I hate seeing you be too stubborn to drive through single digit temperatures.

With a sigh, I put the old death machine into drive and pull out, trying to appear nonchalant. When I get just ahead of you, I stop and look out the back window, just to make sure I'm not picking up some strange chick who happens to look just like you. You definitely see me and look away, but not before a thorough glance into the back.

"Hey!" I shout out the passenger window, "Let me give you a ride?"

You pause, which I expected. Hesitancy is expected when someone who hasn't spoken to you in two months suddenly wants to do you a favor, especially when you know this isn't their normal commute. You start to say no, I can see it teetering on your lips, but when I give you a look of disapproval, you quickly make your way into the car. Your sweet lilac perfume comes with you which, while it doesn't exactly catch me off guard, is something I had almost forgotten. We haven't been this close to each other since that last horrible night.

"Thank you," you say, a small smile playing on the edge of your lips. "I hope it's not an inconvenience- I should have just driven today instead of trying to walk."

"Yes, you should have." I say, but don't let it hit too hard. "I don't blame you for trying, though. I'm sure finding somewhere to park will be an absolute nightmare."

I omit the fact that we'll be even earlier than she usually is and that, even with this detour, I'm still on track to be early to class- we shouldn't have too many problems.

She just fluffs her hair and opens her Thermos, staring off out the window to somewhere that I'm sure I'll never be able to see and thinking about something that I don't expect her to share. Many secrets lie behind her beautiful appearance- secrets that I so desperately need to know but that she isn't quick to share. I always have so many questions and conversational topics I say I'll bring forward when I have the chance. I can't bring myself to guide any sort of small talk today, though. All I can focus on today is how beautiful she is, right here in the front seat of my car, and how much I'd love to drag her into the back of it.

Clearing my throat to bring me out of my daydream, I realize that I've pulled into a parking space. Somehow, I've gotten us here without even realizing it. Amazing, really, what a woman can do to your mental capacity. She gets out of the car, offering more gratitude for my services and almost tripping over her own feet as she walks away. Denim clad legs take her away from me- for now, at least. Maybe this can be a new beginning for us, one where I don't absolutely annihilate my odds of winning your affection. I reach into my pocket and gently touch the only thing I have of yours- a simple note you had slid to me in class just days after we met. It's soft now, from being carried all the time.

_Do you like games? _

A simple question, but your eyes had been lit up like wildfire. You'd never given me an explanation beyond that and wouldn't elaborate on the topic, instead blushing when I had brought it up later.

What you failed to realize, is that I absolutely love games, I'll do anything to win. It had always caused problems when I was growing up. Competition has always inspired a part of me that doesn't seem to be awakened by anything else in life. I don't often allow myself to be involved in anything that brings that side of me out for everyone to see, and for very good reason. You didn't know this, because there are a lot of things that you don't know about me yet.

I love prizes, which is why I love winning, something that I've become very good at over the years. That was the moment I decided that you would be the best prize I would ever be awarded.


	2. Chapter 2

The Minor Fall

_"__Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."_

-Martin Luther King Jr.

Chapter One

Awake. That is what I am, and it is against my will. I can hear my roommate banging around in the bathroom next door, probably trying to put himself together before work. I roll further into my already wrapped up blankets and shut my eyes, not quite ready to face the bright light of the day that is filtering in through my window. The sun is already up and more offensive than the music that Jeremy has playing, which says a lot. Some whiny voice croons about an airplane over the sea and worse yet- he must think its karaoke hour.

Jeremy is a nice enough guy, but he has absolutely zero business trying to carry a tune. I'm not sure he could manage to be on key if his life depended on it. He only sings alone when he's in a good mood, though, which doesn't happen much in the mornings.

My curiosity gets the best of me after a moment, and I enjoy a full body stretch under my warm blankets before getting out of bed. Walking in the morning has got to be one of the biggest challenges ever given to human beings. My legs feel like Twizzlers, but not the fresh ones, the ones that have been sitting open for at least three days. I can feel that my hair has decided to have a hurricane-blown look about it this morning without even looking at it. Wandering down the hall, I learn that Jeremy has now relocated to our kitchen and is working quickly to destroy the cleanliness I left behind after the Great Dishes War of this week.

I stand in the doorway and watch him, still singing along but now to some other song that's equally as whiny as the first one was. I roll my eyes and clear my throat to get his attention. His head pops up with a grin as he gets out of the refrigerator at last, a pack of bacon in one hand and carton of eggs in the other.

"What up?" He greets me in his usual relaxed tone as he continues his march around the kitchen in search of the tools needed to construct his meal. He pauses as he searches through a cabinet, hopefully looking for a lid to cover the pan his bacon will fry in. I just scrubbed the grease from the stovetop yesterday and I really don't feel up to doing it again.

"I just heard you bumbling around out here and figured you might like some company." I take a seat at the small table we found at a yard sale this summer. The wood is faded, but strong, and it never wobbles. "You have to work today?"

"For a while, yeah, but I don't go in until later." He gets the stove lit and drops a few slices of bacon into the frying pan. He wasn't searching for a lid as I had previously hoped, which makes me go looking for one. "You have anything happening today?"

"I have to go pick up my books for the new semester and get a few other things, but other than that, I plan on enjoying my last two days of freedom as anyone else would." I grin as I produce the pan's mate and sit the lid carefully on top of it. Crisis avoided. I then return to our conversation as he looks strangely at the new and improved bacon fryer. "I think I'll stay in pajamas and maybe see how much beer I can put into my system in less than forty-eight hours time."

He laughs, shaking his head at me. He's always said that I'm lucky- I don't have to work while I'm in school. When my parents died, they'd left me this house and a bit of money. Not enough to make me rich, but enough for me to live off of while I'm attending college and until I get a degree. It also helps that I'm not as reckless with finances as Jeremy is. I've been trying to sort him out for a while now, but every dime he has seems to burn a hole in his old denim pockets.

"You have your schedule all lined out?" He asks. "What classes are you in this semester?"

"Psych 202, Genetics, and a couple of fluff classes to make it an easy go." I sigh, "I'd much rather be taking courses that would line up with my degree, but you know. Gotta take the ones you don't want to get to the ones you do."

There is silence for a long minute- the only sound heard was bacon popping and sizzling. I realize that Jeremy has paused his playlist in the time that I've been in here. The coffee pot suddenly sputters, making both of us turn toward it, eyes full of excitement. Nobody ever told me that the best part of adulthood would be when the coffee finishes brewing, but here we are, both staring at it like we've been presented with the finest chocolates or the most delicious looking dinner.

I open the cabinet above it and reach for a mug, which due to my poor planning, are all on the top shelf. I knew I'd have trouble reaching them there, but did it anyway. I feel his hand at my waist as he reaches up behind me, snatching two of them up by the handles and bringing them down with a playful grin. The hand that was at my waist reaches up to pat my head, making me glare up at him. It's not fair that some people get to be so tall, while I can barely reach the top of the freezer on my good days.

I thank him anyway and pour our coffee for us, we both take a long sip and follow it with that commercial cliche sigh afterwards. This must be what getting old is like, and while I'm not getting old alone with my best friend at my side, there are moments like these where I've never felt more lonely.

Back in my bedroom, I've polished off my caffeine source and dressed for the day. My bed has been made and all pillows have been fluffed. I guess its about time I head out and get my errands done. I need to get that beer anyway if I want to be a real bum today. I slip on a pair of leather boots and grab my car keys from the hook in our foyer, locking the door on my way out. The day is bright enough to be offensive and the heat from summer is still lurking, no matter how much I ask the world to cool off. This neighborhood is always quiet despite the fact that it's full of families. On a day like this, I would have had some kind of ball out in the street with my friends when I was a kid. Now, only a small few ever venture outside to find their entertainment. I check the time on my phone- 11:32. There shouldn't be any traffic as I pass through town.

When I arrive to campus, I find it just as deserted as I expected. Classes haven't started yet, and students won't move into their dorms for at least another couple of hours. The bookstore is open and I hastily procure what I need for my classes before leaving. I really don't want to be here when any of the families arrive too early and complain about how they shouldn't have to wait for their kid, who was the star of whatever sports team (because according to these parents, the kid is somehow the star of everything) to move in when they had to bring them here on the last weekend before classes anyway. I had helped with move-in day last year, and the campus quickly became overrun with those parents, all of them mingling and trying to show that their kid was better than everyone else's. The poor kid was just trying not to be embarrassed by the loser dropping them off.

I try to make my errands quick- running into Walmart accomplished two stops in one, beer and school supplies. I found a few notebooks and new pens, even picked up a new shoulder bag that would be lighter weight than the one I'd been using for so long. On the drive home, following a road full of still green covered trees, I can't help but feel like I've forgotten something important. Everything went too easily for me to already be heading home. When I park, I check my phone again- 1:17. Maybe today is just going to be an easy day.

No new messages, no missed calls, no notifications in general. I don't know why this continues to surprise me. I press the lock button on my phone and carry everything inside, sitting my books and school supplies in the living room and taking my new beer collection into the kitchen. I have to move a lot around to make it all fit in the fridge, and only 3 bottles are left without homes. Oh well, I guess they'll be my first victims. Cracking one and taking the others with me, I sit them on the table next to the couch. Using our TV remote further confirms that I seem to be wasting money on cable, and just as I'm about to give up on my channel surfing, I find reruns of Parks and Recreation. Not exactly educational or engaging, but for background noise it will certainly do.

The first drink of my Blue Moon is ice cold and I can't help but follow it with another taste. Crisp and refreshing, I enjoy the contrast to this hot day. The hours go by almost as quickly as the bottles do, and before I know it, I'm feeling pretty good. I laugh at all of the lame jokes that Leslie Knope offers- something I would never do sober- and start on registering any of my online content for my books. It doesn't take too long to get wrapped up and I can return to my mind numbing afternoon of sloth.

I'm not sure how many bottles of beer have fallen to my power when Jeremy comes home. It appears to be dark outside, and when I go to the fridge I see that I have certainly depleted my stash. I have enough to share though, so I crack one open for him and he joins me in the living room. Parks and Recreation has turned into some animated show that I don't recognize. Jeremy stretches his legs out in front of him, kicks off his shoes and assumes his usual stretched out position. I've always been amazed by how long and lanky his body is. I envy his height more than anything else, but I wouldn't mind having a laid back view on life either.

"How was work today?" I ask him, taking a drink and bringing my feet up to rest in his lap. This is us. Being lazy together.

"Usual bullshit." He replies, "Especially after move-in at the campus was over. All of the parents swarmed the restaurant with their special requests and complete disregard for human decency. You know how they are." He smiles over at me, a laugh in his eyes.

"Unfortunately," I begin, "I think everyone knows. I hope they at least tipped their servers for putting up with them but I already know you're going to tell me they didn't."

He rests one hand on my ankle and turns to me, serious as I've ever seen him. "Do you mean to tell me that fifteen cents isn't a fair tip for a party of six? I'm flabbergasted!"

With that, I laugh and we settle into our usual routine of beer, television, video games, and arguing about whether or not the people on screen are hot. I couldn't ask for a better way to spend my time.

Monday hits me. Hard. My alarm goes off for my first class and I am rudely reminded that the real world exists, that I have responsibilities, and that the snooze button is a loyal, but dangerous friend. When it goes off again, I make my way out of my warm, fuzzy cocoon and arrange my blankets into some kind of order. I wouldn't exactly say that my bed is made, but at least it's not a complete mess.

I can hear Jeremy still snoring down the hall, and I know he won't be moving for a while. His schedule said he's not working today, so he'll definitely be sleeping until at least noon. I'm careful to stay quiet so as not to wake him, and make a mental note to pick up something different for dinner on my way home later.

I shower and dress, making sure that I'm layered enough to deal with the harsh air conditioned buildings I will be in during my classes, before heading to grab a quick piece of toast from the kitchen. I don't have as much time as I'd like, and I forgot to set the timer on the coffee pot last night. Oh man, speaking of last night… My head is pounding. A hangover is certainly not the best way to start a new semester. At least I won't have to do much today. The walk across campus is going to suck though. I think ahead and grab my sunglasses before I walk out the door. As soon as I'm outside, I'm grateful for them. Today is just as bright, if not brighter, than the last couple of days have been. Where is all this sunshine coming from and why can't it let some clouds in?

My drive to campus is quick and parking isn't too bad. I can see students walking quickly across the green and instinctively know that most of them are freshmen. No upperclassman stresses getting anywhere on time, unless it's for one or two specific teachers that lock their doors as soon as class starts. We just use the back doors to classrooms when needed.

I get out of the car and make my way up the sidewalk, deciding to stop in to the campus Starbucks and grab a mocha. I haven't had one in a while, and my phone confirms I still have 10 minutes before I have to be somewhere. I can get my drink and be there early, and I know that caffeine is going to be my best friend today. The main building is buzzing with people, looking both excited and nervous, some talking to each other, and the rest with their noses in their books. I remember when I would read my books before classes started. I thought it would make me better prepared for the class I would be facing. The reality is that the classes won't cover as much as the book does, and I would just end up angry that I spent three-hundred dollars on a book that I needed two pages from.

"Tall mocha!" The barista yells, and I step forward. Picking up my coffee, I leave the building and head to my first class. This campus always seems to smell like cut grass and cigarettes, something that has become comforting over the years. I find my way into the classroom and grab a seat in the middle, wrestling my notebook out of my shoulder bag. I get everything set up and take one last look at my phone. It seems Jeremy got up early after all.

_Have a great first day of class, kid. Call me if you need anything, I'll be home all day. _

Sometimes he feels more like my dad than he does my best friend, but the message makes me smile regardless. I don't text him back, just silence my device and tuck it back into my bag as the teacher of this class walks in.

The first week of classes is both the easiest thing in the world, and the worst time to be a college student. Fairmont State University has taught me that. Reviewing the same syllabus several times never fails to make me wish I was able to skip class, but that's simply not possible. Attendance counts this week, and I'm always ready for any way to scoot my grades up. The teacher of this class drones on about her policies- show up on time, don't miss class, and there are only two exceptions for missing an exam that will make you eligible for a different testing date- death of a family member or being in the emergency room.

With a deep sigh, I look around the room. There are no wall hangings, diagrams, or posters of any kind. Even the chalkboard has that never-been-touched appearance. This isn't a new part of the school, or even a new teacher, so I now know she must be very bland every day. Should make for a long semester.

I lean back in my seat, letting my pen rest against my notebook. I should have known better than to think we would start on any type of solid material today. Very few teachers go any further than explaining what the lesson plans will consist of on the first day, and most don't even bring up new material until the second week. It's all very disappointing. Twenty-thousand dollars a year for this? A waste of a perfectly good week. I have no doubt we'll have some kind of assignment for the weekend though. The school seems to think that if students have work to do, we won't start parties in the on-campus housing during the first week back. So far, this plan has not worked out for them, so I'm not sure why they continue with it. Assigning papers on topics you haven't learned about seems a bit unfair if you ask me.

The teacher is finally explaining the premise of this genetics course when I hear a soft cough from behind me. I turn, curious, to see a curtain of vibrant red hair and just a peek of ivory skin beneath it. She has long legs covered by skin tight denim and wears a leather jacket- arms covered as she reaches into her bag and digs for something that doesn't seem to exist. I turn back to the teacher and continue staring at him, knowing that at some point the time for this class will be up and I'll be able to go back to my day full of… even more of this.

Suddenly, there's a gentle tap on my shoulder, I turn and meet a warm, brown-eyed gaze.

"Do you happen to have an extra pen or something?" She whispers, "I know for sure that I put one in here, but now I can't find it."

She smiles timidly as I hand her the one I've been fidgeting with, her cheeks gaining just a touch of color. "Thank you," she replies. I give a small nod in response and turn back to face the front of the room.

I wasn't expecting to come across anyone interesting today. Usually I wait for the fresh meat to get social after they realize that no matter how much they study, they're lucky to pull B's. They're more experimental and inexperienced than any existing students, and I can usually get them alone pretty easily. As an upperclassman, I've taken a lot of the same classes that they're struggling with, and I can volunteer my time as a tutor. A few hours spent reading over material almost always leads to at least a couple of hours with them on their own books and me learning more about anatomy than any class could teach me.

Finally, this class is over. I tuck my notebook back into my bag and brush my hair behind my ear before I leave the room. Heading towards the restroom, I'm stopped by a small hand grabbing my arm. It's the same girl as before. She must be a naturally touchy person, this is twice in an hour. She holds my pen out to me.

"I… I just wanted to give this back." She stutters out. She crosses one leg over the other and glances down at her feet. "I don't want to be the chick that steals pens on the first day of classes. Trying to have a better reputation at this school than I did at my last." She laughs. It's a sweet sound.

I accept the pen at first, and then hand it back to her. "You'll need it. I have more in my car, I'm sure of that." I speak slowly, carefully. "New school? Where did you transfer from?" Now it's a friendly conversation. I have to pee, but that can wait for now.

She seems to hesitate, even though I'm sure I won't know anyone at whatever school she's from. I barely know anyone at this one and I've been here for a while.

"Yeah, I came here from Arizona State, in Tempe, actually. That's where I'm from, well, just north of there, at least. At first it made sense to stay close to home, but now… It was just better that I come here." She explains it slowly, watching my face for any sort of reaction. When I don't give one, she laughs, adjusting her collar. "You're probably thinking I'm crazy. I'm sorry. You know more now than anyone and you haven't even heard my name!" She laughs again. "I'm Isabelle, Isabelle Sterling. I hope I haven't already scared you off."

I smile. "You can't scare off someone who's intrigued, not so easily at least." I offer a small laugh and check the time. I don't have another class for a couple of hours. "What's your next class? I'll make sure you get there on time."

"Oh," she says, "I don't have another class for at least an hour today. I was actually deciding what I wanted to do about lunch. I've worked up quite an appetite searching the contents of my bag." She smiles and pats her messenger bag as she speaks. "Do you know of anything good around here? I didn't drive, so I can't go too far, but I want to experience a little local cafe or something. Fairmont seems tiny, but it's bound to have some kind of little diner, right?"

"Yeah, sure. I can take you somewhere if you want, I drove here today and I've got some time anyway." I looked at her, making sure that my offer was not too strong and that she wasn't going to flee immediately.

"That would be great…" She begins, "but I think I still need to know your name before we run off into the sunset together." She offers a sly grin as I flush, realizing that I didn't introduce myself even after she did.

"Sorry," I lead off, "Emily Jenkins. I didn't mean to be rude."

She simply smiled and started towards the stairs. Watching her walk away is almost better than talking to her has been. Those long legs really do speak their own language.

Lunch passes without much notable happening. I can't stop staring at her lips as she talks, almost babbling, all the way through the hour and some change we spent in the small restaurant. She calls it a diner at first, then changes her mind and decides it's a cafe. I can't help but stay amused as she explains the difference.

"Diners," she says, "are a place that you come for grease, cheap food, but still get something tasty. A cafe is higher class, but not by much." She sips her hot tea in between sentences and adjusts her posture ever so slightly. "In a cafe, you can expect higher prices, but healthier food and more options. A diner would never in a million years carry something like crepes."

I don't know that I agree with her, but I laugh and shake my head in response. I've been to diners and I've seen such a vast spread on their menus- far more extensive than any cafe I've ever seen. Some even have large salad selections for her "healthy" options.

She has ordered some fancy panini that sounds too complex for me to pair with her tea, while I stick to coffee- black. She criticizes my choices.

"You know, it's healthy to eat food, right? How much caffeine have you had compared to the amount you've eaten today?" She raises an eyebrow and has a little grin across those lips. It's hard to keep from reaching out towards her and wiping it off of her face. My silence must encourage her, though, and she carries on like this the entire time we're inside. Even in my car, she doesn't let up on me, and in a way, I've enjoyed it. It's been quite a while since I've had anyone even pretend to care about what I do to myself.

Aside from Jeremy, I've been alone for a long time now. Don't get me wrong- I love being independent, and my parents raised me in such a way that I would never have to depend on someone else to ensure my own survival. No matter what, I can always count on myself. That's how it's always been. Even as a kid, I would rely primarily on myself after I started school. It's never been that big of a deal to me, and it was encouraged by my folks. They always used to say that they could take off the training wheels, but I had to be the one to face the difficulty. Maybe they were bad parents, maybe they were the best parents. Every therapist seems to have a different opinion, which is perfectly fine by me.


End file.
